“When an injured athlete urge a comeback to field for love of game, his vulnerability toward previous muscle wound hinder his mental ability to go on with a full swing. Though, same rule implicate for people who hold bleeding pen to draw alphabetic emotions”

Yesterday I met one of those fragile birds. She carry fractured pen fingers under her beautiful skin, has curious eyes with strange shyness and a touched heart. The pursue of selflove somehow quelled her creative charm. I never expected to encounter someone so likeminded. She put away her pen to avoid emotions, identically similar reason made me quit this so-called ability which once lured bunch of close friends and many others who never knew the face behind these emotionally colored pages...

Wish I could feel her feathers and let her touch my scars, but her shivering Fragile Soul stopped me to become a...
‘Bad Boy She Craves For...’

So in one night, not even naked, I
exposed my cretinous ghosts to
someone who heard the words
and nodded. "I feel that."

What's it like to know, and
not even know why,
someone's eyes may well
convey the truth?

So in one night, not even naked, I
exposed my cretinous ghosts to
someone who heard the words
and nodded. "I feel that."

Here I thought it was wrong
that something's wrong with me --
but I function, if improperly
to your specifications.

Here I meet another functional
dysfunction holder,
boldly, in a micro moment,
exposing all of his target tattoos

with an eager, upward tug of the sleeve.

Here I thought I was wrong,
but I'd been misled,
along a familiar path
toward the ravine.